


Behind the Curtain

by AliNasweter



Series: Long and Peculiar Story [2]
Category: Kingdom Come: Deliverance (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Illnesses, Near Drowning, Protective Parents, Serious Injuries, Spoilers, Teen Pregnancy, The Kid Is a Donkey and Gets in Trouble All The Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliNasweter/pseuds/AliNasweter
Summary: "He was a great man. He took you as his own and I always kept an eye on you, of that you can be sure."Series of events when Radzig could be a father. (1384 - 1416)Tags added with new chapters. There are going to be spoilers for the game - epilogue, DLC, etc.The translation of Za oponou. (It's going slowly. Slooowly.)





	1. 1384 (Henry's Birth)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Za oponou](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440532) by [AliNasweter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliNasweter/pseuds/AliNasweter). 



> As I said in the previous work:
> 
> \- The exact date of Radzig Kobyla’s birth is unknown, therefore I work (on my responsibility) with the year 1369 (so in the time the game takes place he is 34 years old)  
> \- The same goes for Henry, his birth is unknown but I’ve guessed he might be 19 years in the game (1403), so the year of his birth is 1384 (Radzig is 15)  
> \- Martin (the blacksmith, Henry’s father) is older than Radzig – born in 1360  
> \- Henry’s mother’s name is Anne here, she is of the same age as Radzig
> 
> Please, if you notice any mistakes, point them out for me. Thank you!

He couldn’t help but feel restless tonight as if something was wrong, something was about to happen. It was not a bad feeling or premonition, but he couldn’t sleep either way. Since the moment he’d fallen into bed, tired and cold, he kept tossing around, trying every possible position that existed. And just after he’d laid face down into the pillow and almost suffocated himself from the clear despair, he heard a knocking.

It didn’t startle him because it was too late, but because the knocking didn’t come from the place he would have expected. He flinched and looked into the darkness, where he knew the hidden door was built-in, just next to the massive oak-wooded bookcase.

“Pssst,” somebody hissed, and even though Radzig couldn’t tell much from the sound itself, he could say for sure it was a man behind the door, and a very nervous one, in hurry, breathing hard. “My lord, it’s me. Martin.” A heartbeat. “The blacksmith.” Another one. “It’s… it’s happening.”

Ah. No wonder he sounded so anxious, then. Radzig could pretend all he wanted, but as long as the door was closed… he allowed himself one short moment of panic. He jumped out of the bed, even more awake now. Suddenly, a whole mountain of worries and disastrous scenarios fell over him and he could hardly breathe. It’s _here_ , it’s happening. She… they are going to have a child. Tonight. What if Anne doesn’t make it? What if the child doesn’t survive? What if something happens?

Why should he even _care?_

He was shivering just like a raindrop on a leaf would, his head spinning.

“Why did you come to me?” he whispered back while stumbling across the room he should have known better by now. He couldn’t even see his own hands but felt clearly they were shaking uncontrollably. It had to be the cold, there was snow outside, lots of it, the fire in the fireplace extinguished long time ago and he was barefooted, who wouldn’t be shaking? There was a silence behind the door.

“I thought that you would like to be there,” Martin replied, clearly confused. Why, why does he think of me, why is he so kind, does he want me to suffer even more? “I know you want to,” the blacksmith continued, meanwhile Radzig just threw a dirty look at the hidden door. And even though he knew how useless his gesture was, he raised his eyebrows so significantly that it could be heard in the silence. “I thought you might be interested, my lord,” the expected addition came at last. Radzig was never against familiar addressing of his person, but he wanted to keep the distance from the blacksmith’s family, at least on the outside so he didn’t get used to them being friendly too much. And even though they were alone now, he feared that he might become too comfortable with it, if he were to allow it in private. Somebody might notice, somebody might put two and two together and that was hardly wanted.

He opened the door and let the cold breeze come into his quarters. Martin had a small candle in his lantern, which shed a pleasant warm light into the room. Radzig was glad he could blame the winter for the shivering, he was, after all, just in his nighshirt. Martin wore his work clothes, his cheeks were red from the freeze, the trousers soaked from wading through the snow.

“Just let me change, go ahead. I’ll be there,” Radzig promised quietly, then stopped himself. “Wait!” he hissed, taking the blacksmith’s arm. “Do you… do you have a midwife there? Do you need me to get you something from here? Is everything…”

“Anne is alright,” Martin answered and patted his shoulder. Radzig hated him for that, for being calm, for being always the reasonable one. He didn’t come because he was scared or needed help. He came because he knew Radzig cared, and what was worse, he didn’t expect gratefulness. Radzig knew he didn’t. “We have everything we need. She had a feeling it’s coming so we were ready. I didn’t even go to bed tonight.”

***

He avoided the guards easily enough, nobody really knew about the secret paths in the castle, aside from his father, Martin and himself. He stopped behind the main gate and his brow furrowed as he looked at the untouched snow around him, thinking, for a little moment, that it could have been a dream and he was out there for nothing else than startling the blacksmith and his wife in the middle of the night, when he realized Martin had probably taken a longer route as to not make any tracks leading anyone curious enough to the hidden door to the castle. He alone then turned around and took one very unpleasant and long walk around the village and over the market before getting to the house he was aiming for.

He was soaked through when he finally arrived. In the hallway he dropped his heavy cloak and glanced at the bench where Martin was sitting, hunched over and looking extremely anxious. His hands were folded with such force that his knuckles went completely white. The kitchen door was closed. It was only when Radzig took a breath to ask if something had happened when the first of the dozens of pained screams came out. He flinched and didn’t say a word. It had probably gotten worse when he was on his way here. Martin firmly closed his eyes.

None of them was the most prolific Christian, but they both knew that if there ever was a good time for praying, it was now.

After about an hour, everything went quiet. Outside the snow was falling, and if somebody dropped a raven feather on the floor it would have been heard. Both men on the bench looked at each other, somewhat connected in the darkness, the same prayer on their lips, overcome by a sudden fear that froze them in the place. Then the child started crying and they took a breath as one. Before the midwife could open the door to let the happy father know whether he had a son or a daughter, Radzig had disappeared into the pantry, a cold and dark room in the back of the house. He nearly laughed when he accidentally kicked over the empty wicker basket and heard the woman ask – do you have _rats_ here?

Another hour passed before the midwife Ludmila was satisfied with the outcome of her work. The mother was alright, the baby as well, the father looked more or less stable enough to take care of them both until the morning when she promised to check on them again. She came out to the chilly night with a smile playing on her lips.

Radzig then walked quietly into the kitchen, where the fire was burning beneath the stove and warming the room. The tips of his fingers were tingling by the sudden return of a feeling, his eyes watering from the sudden wave of heat. He had to blink frantically before he could notice Anne at all. She was there, sitting on two benches pushed together and leaning against the wall, the straw and blankets under her, wearing a woolen blanket she had inherited from her grandmother, and…

His lungs seized, but no cough came. It was so _tiny_. Should the baby be so tiny? Should it be so quiet?

Through her exhaustion Anne beamed at him, and Radzig thought she had never been more beautiful than at this moment, her face pinkish and hair disheveled, eyes like two bright stars, a baby in her arms. He stood there by the door in mute astonishment until Martin, laughing at his shock, nudged him forward. Suddenly, he felt a sense of impropriety as though he had nothing to do there, as if crossing some boundaries, as if witnessing a moment to be shared only by the two parents.

If a pair of strong hands was not pushing him forward, he would have turned around and run out into the freezing cold.

Anne reached out and put the small bundle into his arms, without warning or even a sign of hesitation. He almost shuddered again, carefully putting the child’s head into the crow of his elbow, holding breath while watching the infant’s face. The boy blinked it him, and he felt so terribly light and fragile and heavens above – he knew it there and then, he would protect the child with his life.

“It’s Henry,” Anne whispered softly as to not startle any of them, the baby or the real father.

Radzig just realized that he had been allowed to hold the baby before Martin. They didn’t try to make him feel unwelcome or ashamed, there were no threats or remainders of Martin’s kindness. They both were disgustingly selfless, too good and ridiculously happy, radiant with joy. He turned quickly around and handed the baby to Martin, perhaps just to prove he was not childish. The blacksmith took the boy with a tenderness nobody had ever witnessed in him before, and then smiled down at him.

The image almost choked him. He shouldn’t have come here. He was not supposed to _see_ this, he was not supposed to _be_ here, to touch the child at all, to feel the urge to kiss the boy on his forehead and be there for him. Silently, unknowingly, he made a promise – I will always keep an eye on you.

The sudden wave of envy made him nauseous, that forbidding and repulsive emotion he had always disdained, and at the moment, it was _hate_ he could also feel, hate towards himself for feeling it, towards Anne for being so happy without him, for letting him go so easily, for giving him that happy smile, towards Martin for being kind, for _stealing_ this from him, for being _there_.

Martin then slowly walked over to his wife’s bed, the baby still in his arms. He sat down and they looked at each other, eyes full of wonder and joy. The baby was strong and healthy and Anne was alright. Everything was perfect. They held hands, never noticing their landlord leaving and quietly closing the door behind him.


	2. 1390

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry's 6, Radzig 21

He had no idea how to react when his father had told him about his decision to stay in Skalitz. The castle wasn’t theirs but his father owned most of the land in the village. He’d been at a high position his whole life, he used to be close to Emperor Charles (not this sorry excuse for a king, in his words) and people accepted him as their landlord. After all, he took care of them, he provided them with the soldiers for protection, resolved any disputes, and cared for the village as if it were his own already. It was expected that sooner or later Skalitz would be his officially.

On one hand, he was glad; it was a friendly and beautiful village, people knew each other, the children had always somebody who took care of them. Neighbors were uncles and aunts, no strangers whatsoever. He liked to watch everyday life of the commoners: a man constantly sitting in the tavern and staring the newcomers down to make them play dice with him. There was a merchant with a wagon of charcoal behind his back, his hands always black. Then the woman at the market with the groceries who occasionally ran away from her stall to the baker’s to talk and then rush back before her husband could see her and put her back to work.

The tavern keeper’s little daughter balancing with the mugs of beer and giggling as she failed and poured the liquid all over her small apron. The miller’s girl fighting with her brothers, fire in her eyes and iron in her fists, she was like a small tornado, never one for idle sitting by or sewing like her mother did. Whenever she got tired of the mill, she ran to her oldest brother to the mines. Radzig suspected she might even work there.

Kunesh drinking and his wife suffering in silence. The German being supportive of Sigismund too loudly for Radzig’s liking, and the butcher struggling with his dog’s training; how to make the animal understand he was to guard the meat, not eat him?

And then there was him: the tiny blue-eyed boy, his face always dirty from smoke and soot after spending his days with his father, the blacksmith. His hands were burned from fallen coal he wanted to put back into the fire and didn’t realize they were still hot. And when his parents let him out, he played with other boys, three of them, and all of them little rascals. There was always this little group; a big strong boy, then that lean and clever one, maybe a bit manipulative, then the smallest one, the quiet boy who liked to talk about life. And the last, that beautiful boy with so very blue eyes who was so easy to talk into some mischief.

He watched the four boys scaring the horses and pulling the girls’ hair (never the miller’s daughter, never that one), crawling under the feet of the poor people who carried heavy bins of wood. He saw them jumping into the hay and then scaring the life out of the stable boy.

Radzig always looked away when he saw the blacksmith with a child on his shoulders, or when he saw them both on a borrowed horse, big hands over the tiny ones, clutching at the horse’s mane.

He didn’t understand why he _had_ to look away, or why it was so unbearable to see them together. He remembered that moment when he caught himself growing angry, just after one small thought, one realization that should be calming, not upsetting. He saw Martin as a father, attentive and caring, strict but just. He could make the boy laugh or apologize for any mischief that went too far.

Radzig was just riding back from Kuttenberg when he actually _met_ Henry again. He had hoped that when he faced him again, it would be under better circumstances but instead, the fate decided to bring him a near heart attack.

All the soldiers were allowed (maybe he _did_ order them to leave him alone) to go ahead, as he wanted a little time for himself, to go through his village that made him happy and miserable at the same time. He wanted to have a look at the new houses and what else is new, and if everything is calm before heading to his father to give him a report. He always stayed with him until late after his travels. He had no idea that he would thank God for many years to come for that one decision, that one lazy thought of a boy who wanted to have some time for himself.

He stopped short when he heard the plop. Too loud of a sound for a frog, too quiet for a man. And the water was freezing already, the weather was definitely not one for a bath, and – oh god.

He jumped off his horse and dove into the water. It felt like a punch to his abdomen, left him sputtering and with a short breath. He grabbed the first thing he could feel and with one sharp motion, he pulled a boy out of the water.

His poor heart missed a beat when the boy spat the water back into the pond and then looked at him with tearful eyes, large and blue and _alive_. Then the child started coughing wildly until he got all the water out of him. Radzig then carefully placed him on the shore and scrambled out of the water, shaking like a leaf. He could barely feel his legs, the cold numbing his body, and every move was as painful as it was clumsy. He fell on the grass next to the boy and took a deep breath. In the meantime, the boy’s teeth chattering.

“The-re was-was a f-frog,” he stammered out an explanation.

“Can’t you swim?!” Radzig snapped at him, his heart pounding painfully.

“No!” the boy cried. “I don’t like it, I don’t know how!” His lips were getting blue. Radzig got up, cursing under his breath when his legs threatened to betray him, then removed his blanket from his bemused horse, that warm one which had always protected him from cold during his travels. He wrapped the child into the blanket, then took him in his arms and started for the village, limping and breathing heavily. From the feeling of his racing heart, he feared those moments were his last. As he expected, at the first stall at the market he found the blacksmith, looking around confusedly, scratching his head.

“It was two seconds, where did he…” he stopped as he noticed Radzig and his unmoving burden. His face went pale and he seemed to stop breathing. Radzig’s frozen brain took a moment to understand how he must have looked like, carrying a still figure wrapped into blanket from head to feet. He hurried to explain before he could think about that further.

“Don’t worry, it’s all right,” he called from a distance, not really feeling like there was any truth in his words. “He just went for a swim and forgot he doesn’t know how,” he added with a light tone and a heavy heart.

“Oh my God,” Martin gasped, only by a small miracle did he manage to stand on his own. He took the boy in blanket carefully, relief and endless gratitude in his dark eyes. He did not need to say a word. Radzig merely nodded.

He never got his blanket back.

The boy went back to jumping into hay the next day, laughing with his friends, chasing the geese and playing with the butcher’s dog, while Radzig fell on his bed and couldn’t get out of it for two weeks, with his father scolding him every day.

“You fool - winter is almost here and you went for a swim?”


	3. 1399

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry is 15 years old. Radzig is advised to get his own family. He definitely should, maybe he could even forget about that first one he can't have anything in common with. How could he care for more children when he can barely keep an eye on the first one though? Henry is not making it easy for him.

Those nightmares, where it was a still body of a small child he pulled out of the water and he had to give it to his father with shame and sadness he couldn’t even get a voice to, had only rarely returned after nearly ten years. He despised himself for taking everything to his heart. Children in the village are in constant danger; they are fragile and careless, they do not think of injuries or death, just of how to get to know the world and have fun.

It was the year he lost his father. He had been preparing for a long time since they both knew his time was coming, but it was a blow nonetheless. The village was mourning and he could not eat or sleep.

"Why did not you marry?" His father asked him only a week ago when he was lying in bed and needed constant care of his doctor. "It’s about time you found a wife." He did not blame him, he did not mock him either. Radzig knew that his father had longed for grandchildren, a home full of people. His own wife gave him one son, and it was all she could have done for him.

He probably hoped he would put to some use his unexploited paternity to the next generation, but his son didn’t look like he was planning to have his own family anytime soon. "I guess I got you to work too soon, my boy," he sighed, full of regrets he wouldn’t dare to aim at anybody else but himself. "I forgot to show you there are other things in the world. You look as old as I am, and so tired. I'm so sorry, " he apologized, his eyes full of the tears of a man who found out something important too late. "Find a good woman, have children. There is nothing else in life, after all, " he said finally. "You leave the job, you lose the position, they will replace you. But when you have a family, you never die, "he continued urgently as if trying to squeeze as much wisdom into his last words as possible, as much of good advice for a son he was leaving here. He didn’t want his son to be alone. He had only a few friends and he wasn’t so quick to smile as he used to be.

Since Henry’s birth, this was the second time Radzig had prayed. Not for a miracle like in Henry’s case, just for a quiet and painless end, a dignified departure for his father. God must have heard him just like he had the last time, and he learned one morning that Jan Kobyla of Dvorec had gone to meet God in his sleep.

That very same month, one of the worst winters struck Skalitz without any warning or mercy; the land was completely frozen, people had little to eat and only came out of their homes when it was absolutely necessary. Some families moved into one house, the larger one to save wood and to warm up. The animals lived under one roof with people, and everyone who had the courage or urge to come out, a long and agonizing road through the snow was waiting for them.

He was surprised when he got a visit. He hadn’t spoken in days, his father couldn’t be buried properly because of the weather and the castle was too big and cold, perfect home for his dark moods. He could barely recognize his old friend; he looked too thin, pale and shaken, his eyes were dull and lifeless. Radzig knew something had happened.

"Are you ill?" he asked carefully. "My friend, you look terrible," he added, then jumped to his feet when the blacksmith had fallen to his knees. Only after that did he realize that it had been a conscious act, not a sudden weakness.

"My lord," Martin said, his head still bowed. Radzig sent away the guard who was fighting sleep in the corner of the room. There was not much to do in winter, the soldier took the order with thanks and went to the barracks to warm up. Martin waited a few more seconds to be sure they were alone. "I've come to... I... Anne wanted you to..."

"Spit it out!" He could not hold himself any longer. "What happened?"

"She wanted you to say goodbye, it would not be fair to you," muttered the blacksmith, getting lost in his words. "It’s Hal, he ... he's very ill. We are at our wits’ end, the herbalist is trying to heal him, but it’s not helping, he's getting worse and we're just waiting for- " he broke down, the proud warrior and one of the bravest swordsmen Radzig had ever known collapsed right in front of him. He knew it was probably the first time he allowed himself to get it out, he had to be strong at home, for his child as well as his wife. Radzig walked around the table and knelt in front of him, holding his shoulders firmly.

"Gather yourself," he ordered, surprised at his unwavering voice. "How is he sick? Do you know what it is?"

"No, he is ... delirious, we cannot cool him down, he can’t hold water, and his heart is beating too fast," Martin described his son's troubles, his eyes full of sadness and exhaustion. "He… doesn’t recognize us anymore, he is leaving us and Anne wanted you to see… that is, we would want you to…”

"No," Radzig snapped, furious. "I'll go to Sasau for a proper apothecary, those village witches will do more harm than good," he said fiercely. "Go home, Martin. Do not lose your hope.”

"We can’t afford ..." the blacksmith began weakly, the resignation still in his voice. He probably hadn’t slept for days.

"Go!" Radzig barked at him again, "I'm leaving right now." If he stopped to think, if he stopped just for a second, he would end up just like Martin.

Why did they wait so long before they told him? He had a doctor here, a few days back he had one of the best apothecaries who cared for his father! If they got over their stupid pride and asked for his help, none of this would have happened, his son would not be dying now!

He scared his squad to death when he had nearly broken into the barracks and named six men to go with him. They did not understand what was going on but obeyed immediately. They prepared supplies if they were stuck on their way, their friends in the meantime preparing their horses, and within an hour they were all on their way.

***

The healer was not very happy about the prospect of having to go all the way just for one boy. Such extremely cold weather, a dangerous way, and more…

"He is my dear friend’s son,” Radzig said in a tone that no one doubted was absolutely honest. "He's fifteen, he has been delirious for a week, he doesn’t recognize his own parents. You are going with me now and you put the boy on his feet again, " he added breathlessly. Even to him, it sounded like a lost cause. The apothecary just blinked. "I have six soldiers with me who are held responsible for your safety, I will pay you handsomely, you name the price.”

They arrived the next night. The village was silent, hidden beneath a snow cover, no living soul in sight. The soldiers wished them good luck; they knew that Martin had always been close to their lord and that he had saved his life many times in the past. This just worked for Radzig’s favor in their eyes, they took it as evidence of their lord’s sense of honor when he went to such great lengths to repay his debt.

Radzig saw his reasons as what they were, selfish. The approval in the eyes of his men was almost laughable. He and the apothecary were wading through the snow to the blacksmith’s house. He knew no one would be sleeping, so he knocked on the door, then leaned back. It was only then when he had stopped for the first time that fatigue overcame him and his legs trembled.

"Martin!" He cried out, at the end of his strength. The door flew open, and he nearly burst into the room.

"Ra-… Sir?" the blacksmith blurted, his eyes still dull and colorless. "Come on... come in, hurry," he helped them out of the snow. As soon as they closed the door, they began to sweat. The house was warm from the ground to the ceiling, the straw was stuffed under the door to keep out the draft.

Anne sat hunched on the bench, with her son’s head on her lap. She gently smoothed Henry’s hair from his sweaty forehead while murmuring something that nobody else understood. She was as pale and thin as the boy in her arms.

"He began to cough blood this morning," she said hollowly. The apothecary took off his cloak and walked over to the boy, while Radzig stood by the door and gazed into the fire to give the family at least the impression of privacy. He stayed until the morning until he felt his legs give up on him.

They put him in the room opposite the kitchen, a little colder, but a dark and quiet room. He did not even get out of his shoes, he was fast asleep before he could realize that the blanket Martin gave him felt vaguely familiar.

***

He regretted opening his eyes immediately. His head was killing him and the room was spinning with him, his body screaming bloody murder for his two-days ride on a horse, lack of food and sleep. He sat up on the bed, his back aching. After one long-suffering sigh, he looked around and wondered why would he sleep in a bed so uncomfortable when all his memories returned. It was like a blow to his nose, and suddenly he needed to get free of the blanket he did not know how he came to. Before he could stand up, someone knocked on the door and he fell back like a puppet without its strings.

"Yes?" he gritted out, voice painfully hoarse.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, sir?" Anne asked, holding a bowl of grain mash in one hand, and a cup of milk in the other. He didn’t get to tell her to stop calling him so formally in privacy before his stomach grumbled at the look of the food. Anne smiled at him. "The healer says it could be consumption... That's not the end of it, though, he could..." she paused, and swiftly pushed the cup into his hand, taking advantage of his hunger before he realized that milk was something far more precious for them than he could imagine, "he could get rid of it. I would even say," she smiled again, genuinely this time, and there was something about the playful girl he had once liked and hadn’t realized he missed. "I would even say you look much worse. You slept for almost twelve hours, are you feeling any better? I would never forgive myself if you got sick because of us.”

He took a too big gulp of the milk, a drink from the gods for his raw throat and nerves. For a few seconds, he enjoyed that feeling, Anne waiting patiently in front of him.

"I'm fine," he said. "I was just tired." She grabbed him with her cold fingers and squeezed his hand firmly.

"Whatever happens... I do not know how to thank you. We are... we almost gave up on him," she whispered, tears of shame and fear in her eyes. "I will never forgive myself. Thank you. That you're here for him, that you care about him. I will never forget your kindness.”

He gently lowered her hands and took the bowl, hoping that she would blame the cold and exhaustion for his shaking hands. "I'm starving," he joked, a smile on his lips that never reached his eyes. She squeezed his hand again, eyes sympathetic and knowing, and went back to the kitchen.

Three days later the apothecary came to the castle to say his goodbye and to pick up his pay. He did not plan to tell the blacksmith how much his care would cost. Sending two of his men to prepare for the apothecary’s safe escort back to Sasau, Radzig took the older man aside and lowered his voice.

"So? How is he?”

"It's incredible," the man started with something akin to wonder. "I have not seen many people who survived the consumption, but this boy is a strong one. Something has settled on his lungs, he probably will have to learn to live with that... a small cough may stay permanently and he may get tired a little faster than healthy people, but he'll survive. If it got worse, even if you only _suspected_ it got worse in _any_ way, you know where to find me. And I left some medicine for his parents. They know what to do."

"If you happen to have an apprentice or a friend with your craft, you know where to send him when he's looking for a living," Radzig said, and although the words were light and painted with humor, the apothecary knew he meant them.


	4. 1403

The village his father had lovingly built and cared for was burned to the ground. His people were either dead or begging in the streets. He couldn't do more for them; the citizens of Rattay didn’t take it well whenever the refugees were given extra care. They wanted to see them work for their money, _as they did_ , they were completely blind and indifferent to the possibility that they might end up the same or worse. Not all of them, but most of them seemed to not understand what had happened. Some of them probably still refused to believe, even with the victims of the attack right under their noses.

All they saw were dirty beggars on their lovely streets.

Hanush and his nephew welcomed him as a brother. He hadn't expected anything else, he'd been close to Rattay's regent for a long time. He came with a plea, soaked to the bone, behind him a small crowd of equally drenched and frightened people. Hanush had first ordered his subjects to be taken care of, and only when they were alone after young Hans Capon had given him all the greetings and reassurances and condolences which common courtesy required, Hanush, a man like a mountain, grabbed him and pulled him into his arms. Radzig was thankful for Divish putting up with his mask of good humor and optimism, and for Hanush letting him drop it.

Sigismund had his silver mines, his home, dignity, past, he had the lives of his people, his friends, his men. Only one light of hope flickered somewhere on the horizon, tiny, but strong enough to keep him sane. Henry managed to get out of the village in time, the idiots at the castle gate could not wait for a second longer to let him in and hide him. He had thought then, standing on the balcony, that it was the last time he’d seen the boy, running along the path around the castle, the sword he was supposed to deliver to him in his right hand, fear for his life in his eyes.

Radzig could see that Hal had no idea what to do with the sword at all; Martin wanted to forget his past, and so he was strongly against the smallest possibility that Henry would follow in his footsteps. He never let him use the weapons they had made together. That was a pity, Martin was the best possible teacher Radzig could have hoped for. He had to admit he’d been disappointed when he saw Martin’s stubborn refusal. But who was Radzig to talk into his raising, right?

If Martin had survived, Radzig would punch him and yelled at him until he got blue. A man is supposed to protect. Yes, knowing how to fight could get out of hand, especially if the hand was Henry’s, who was still young and too wild to know it’s better to be safe than sorry. But Radzig would have taken the risk. There were always wars and attacks and…

No. Martin wouldn’t deserve that. He was level-headed, wise. He knew the boy he’d raised, he could tell that Henry would have got into the fight regardless of being outnumbered. Henry would have died if he knew how to fight. Radzig would have died if he were there. Martin simply knew that. Of course, he was right. Radzig knew that he just wanted to be angry with Martin. He was always trying to find something in the good blacksmith’s personality or act or _anything_ to show himself that he wouldn’t be so bad in the end, for Anne or for Hal.

If Anne and Henry were with him at the castle, they would never…

No.

No – he knew that was the wrong thing to think, he knew and hated himself for it and yet couldn’t help it. Radzig hadn’t known the storm would come and he would be able to save lives of himself and those of his people in the end. He had had no idea at the time and he’d been glad that Henry wasn’t there.  

Then he learned from Divish that his “messenger” had survived, that he was wounded and had to be treated, but _alive_. He allowed himself a cry of relief, a small thank you to God. He didn't expect any of his people to give it much thought anyway; they had lost their homes and loved ones, they had been frozen and wet, frightened, hungry and tired. They couldn’t have cared less about Radzig’s worries, they just wanted to go away, to safety. Divish knew about Henry, he knew what those few words had meant to him. He’d given him the strength to go to Rattay and take care of his people.

Divish promised that the donkey, that is Henry, would not leave the castle, certainly not because of his planned return to Skalitz. Radzig understood his reasons, but the thought of him going back to that hell made him sick. Although he had been still nervous about Henry going against his orders when leaving to Rattay, he had confidence in Divish’s man; Captain Robard was a great soldier, not even a mouse would slip under his nose.

***

It was almost the last drop for his very fragile nerves when Hanush told him that Robard needed to talk to him. It took him a long time to actually arrive and see the captain. Kidding everyone but himself, he had thought he was ready for everything. Maybe the injury was worse than they thought? Did the boy survive the slaughter just to die a few miles away?

Robard looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, and Radzig couldn’t blame him. The captain bowed.

"Sir Divish sent me to inform you..." he paused as the younger man sat heavily at the huge table, Hanush to his left. "The boy from Skalitz, Henry... ran away."

That was even _worse_ than if he'd died from the injuries.

Did he walk right into their bloodthirsty hands, or did the Kumans wait for him? He had no chance, he had absolutely _no chance_. Stubborn donkey, damn fool! His breath quickened, his lungs stopped working, and Hanush froze beside him.

"We arrived just in time," Robard continued, and although his words indicated a good ending, his face said the opposite. The man wasn't easy to read. "Some thieves attacked him, a girl had gotten their attention just before I arrived with my men. Some thieves ran away, some of them fell. The girl, also from Skalitz, then took the boy to her uncle. A Rattay’s miller, if I remember correctly. Peshek. ”

"Yeah, I know that old bastard," Hanush said, bless the man. Radzig was unable to react in any way, still trying to make his lungs work. Couldn’t Robard start with that? "Little shit, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

"It doesn’t look so good, they say. But the apothecary Konyash is looking after him, he claims the boy will be alright in a few days. He's a good man, heals him on debt. Looks like he is quite sure about his success.”

Robard probably had no idea why he had to go all the way for just one village boy, but he was quite careful with his words. He probably could tell that Radzig needed good news, desperately.

The apothecaries were a damn expensive thing, though. The boy will wake up and be in huge debt, not to mention that he'll have to work for the time spent at the miller’s place. He did not know Peshek, but he had already made his own opinion about millers. He had never been proven wrong about any of them. They formed a kind of impenetrable community where everyone suspected something fishy was happening, but no one ever knew what it was. And those who found out didn't tell a living soul about it, for obvious reasons.

They thanked Robard for the news and let him go. They didn’t bother with inviting him to stay the night, knowing that he was going to head for Bernard and go for a drink or five with him.

"If you _only think_ about settling the debt, I'll kick your ass," Hanush told him, always true to his nature. "He's an adult, he'll take care of himself."

“Do you know how much the apothecary’s care costs? No wonder they're just in towns, they would starve in a village with those prices, ” Radzig replied faintly, somewhat unnerved about how easily Hanush could read him.

"If he's half as cunning as his father, he'll settle the debt in a few days, and he’ll have something left," Hanush waved him away carelessly. He was happy to hear that the boy had survived, he always wanted to meet him.

“That’s exactly what I am afraid of," Radzig noted dryly. "If the miller gets him in trouble…”

"You just stopped worrying about the kid kicking the bucket, so you start freaking out for a few groschens. Millers are mostly thieves and lying bastards, but they're not murderers. Let the boy have some fun before we get him in our hands," the Rattay’s regent slapped him on his back so hard that Radzig almost fell on the table. "If he has the courage to come to you," he added.

He had it.


	5. 1403 (after Vranik)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal came back from Vranik with a report for Hanush and... his father, it seems.
> 
> "I swear, Hal, I planned to tell you. I'm sorry that Istvan of all people beat me to it. But now we have more urgent matters to deal with, hmm?"
> 
> Urgent matters indeed, Radzig. Let's suffer a bit more.
> 
> (Please, if you find any mistakes or words that make your eyes hurt, point them out for me? I do struggle. Thank you!)

The three of them remained standing, staring at the door. After a few seconds, Hanush snorted in amusement, Bernard muttered something under his breath ("That explains a lot."), while Radzig was just beginning to realize his pounding heart. Surely it was just a surprise he saw? He waited for the captain to relieve himself of their presence, then he sat back down next to Hanush and finished his wine in one gulp. The Lord of Leipa just laughed at him.

"You look as if somebody kicked you in your face, my friend. You wanted to tell him all along, didn't you?”

That wasn't the problem.

"He couldn't even look me in the eyes," he said slowly, carefully, as if he were replaying the whole situation in his head. "Maybe I am nothing but a liar to him now. Or the scoundrel who seduced his mother and then didn't take care of her."

"One must be born with such stupid ideas," Hanush simply shook his head. He was a man known for his good mood and sense of humor, he had no understanding for those who stubbornly resorted to only one pessimistic version in every situation. To his great joy, he just witnessed one family reunion. A little clumsy one for sure, but that was to be expected. He would like nothing more than to accuse Radzig of dodging the responsibility for the explanation he owed to the boy, but the truth was that it was not exactly the best time for such things. If they wanted to attack before Toth, they had some work to do. However, it was still kind of... a reunion, and Hanush saw nothing wrong with it.

Henry might have felt nonplussed a bit, unsure perhaps, but surely that was to be expected. He had probably wondered in the past why noble gentlemen had such a soft spot for him, even though he had not obeyed more than one order.

But there was no point in arguing about the plan of attack until Divish joined them. So Hanush might as well talk about it in the meantime. Radzig was one of the bravest men he had ever known, but he could also be a coward when it came to certain matters. He probably prayed that Hanush would leave him alone and not dig into what just happened.

Well. As if he didn't know him!

"Why do you think so?" He asked, almost smiling as his friend’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he began somewhat reluctantly. "I shouldn't have forced him," he added suddenly. Meanwhile, Hanush was struggling between the desire to laugh at his stupidity, and the urge to start shaking with the idiot.

"You take it all too much to heart," he slapped his friend’s back and finished his cup. “It's not unusual. He just needs time to take it in, he's probably the only one who really had no idea, not even suspicion, even though you couldn’t have been more obvious at times,” he said. "I don't think you are at risk of losing his respect if that is what you are worried about. He was just surprised. And when you consider that he learned the truth from Istvan… well.”

"He could have told him anything," Radzig murmured, still so quiet. "Toth learned this by mistake during his visit, I don't even know how... and he'd always pointed to it and every time he did so, he got disgustingly pleased that I couldn’t defend myself. He has a truly developed vocabulary for a stranger,” he said, allowing himself to be impressed for a moment, all things considered. "Even on the day of the attack when I stopped by the blacksmith’s to see how Martin was doing with my sword. Of course, it was just a hint then and Henry had no idea. But Martin got it at the time, I saw it in his eyes. I was afraid for a moment that he would grab that sword and run Istvan through. _I_ should have done it, honestly.”

“You're paranoid. He was just fucking with the two of you, maybe even playing for some time before Sigismund’s arrival, that stupid greedy prick. But he could have done much worse, to be fair. He could have made better use of it. He would get much more from ransacking this poor excuse for a country than he would get as a ransom for the boy. Do you think that he is planning something more…”

"He still _can_ make better use of it," Radzig corrected him grimly. So blinded by his own personal defeat, he didn’t have it in him to think about anything else at the moment. "This complicates things. I wanted to tell Hal when it was over, when everything calmed down. Of all the people he could hear it from…”

Radzig had (more or less) made peace with looking after his only son from distance and justifying his affection with friendly relations with Martin. And then, after his and Anne's death, when it would be suitable to take an orphan as his own, he simply couldn't. It was all too fresh and painful, and he couldn't imagine a single option that was acceptable. He couldn't come to the boy and tell him the truth, especially after he hadn't even got a chance to mourn his parents properly.

He wanted to wait for everything to settle down a bit. Wait until they recovered, stood on their feet once more, learned more about the invaders, about the situation in the country. But one disaster made room for another, the Neuhof ambush, the forgers in Sasau, then the monastery, and suddenly Henry was his best investigator and he saw him just when the boy came back with a report, bloodied and bruised, but victorious.

He stood firm when Radzig had no idea what to do to not collapse completely. Wenceslas couldn’t help himself, let alone some small lord on the other side of their country. He felt alone, but then he looked around and heard that Divish told Sigismund to fuck off – although in more words and with politeness his friend was known for – and Hanush kept yelling at his nephew and refused to let anyone ruin his taste for a good meal and wine. They just kept living, Henry among them, and Radzig had to try for their sakes.

He never got a chance to tell his son the truth, his new investigator was always running some errands, always with so many things to do, and Radzig caught himself thinking of him more as a soldier. He hated every dangerous mission he'd sent him on. He forced himself to ignore every bad feeling he had about particularly dangerous quests, since he couldn’t tell whether it was indeed just a feeling that he was sending one of his men into a trap, or if it was a worry of a parent, a guilt over sending his own child to do things that no other would’ve had the courage to do. He couldn’t tell the difference between his instinct and experience, and worry.

Of course he was afraid every time he sent the boy away, he was worried sick when the darkness fell and his son came to him, eyes wide as saucers, replying to his lord’s insane request to spy in a Cuman camp of all the places: “I don’t really know how to go about this, my lord. I am not sure what to do.”

That was a fair warning, but Radzig’s men… they wouldn’t think of sabotaging the enemies to lessen their numbers and ease the fight for their fellow soldiers. They wouldn’t think to actually dress like a Cuman and snarl at them in their own camp, pretending to be one of their grumpy friends. They wouldn’t put their arrows on fire and scare their horses, poison their food. They wouldn’t go to all the trouble to complete their mission and Radzig simply needed men like Henry for this. A crazy task, but he still had confidence in him, just the same as he would have in himself if it came to it.

But Vranik was no camp. It was a fortress full of enemies. They were approaching the core of everything, they were getting very close - and where the fortress is, there is the brain of the operation. He had no suspicion of Toth, of course. He hadn't seen that far, but he suspected that Henry's eloquence wouldn't be enough this time. He was able to dodge all the questions ordinary bandits threw at him, but someone of a noble family, and apparently the master of the whole plan that had tirelessly plagued them for several weeks, would not have been so easy to get around. In a way, he was right.

"That _wasn't_ a surprise I saw," he concluded his story with a seemingly unrelated statement. Hanush didn't look confused.

"And what do you think it was?" He asked carefully. Thin ice, very thin.

"I don't know. He might have been surprised to find out, but that had already happened and I hadn’t been there. But this was ... " _Disappointment?_

Of course. He would also be disappointed to find out that his beloved father was not his father at all. He knew Henry looked up to him, adored him. Martin was a good man, smart, brave, strong. That kind of a man anybody would want for their father. Not a coward like him, maybe blue-blooded, but a coward. Bitter at that, unforgiving, fragile minded. That was why it had been so easy for Anne to reject him despite the situation in which she found herself. She was threatened with disgrace, as was her family, threatened with condemnation and starvation and forced prayer and pleading forgiveness for the rest of her days, and yet she would not accept his offer. She could have blamed his own good, of course, but it was probably just that repulsion she must have felt at the thought of having to spend her life with him.

He never got over how easy it had been for her to dismiss their shared past and just continue with her life seemingly unbothered while Radzig struggled to even look at the blacksmith’s house. The price of not losing the respect of his people, maybe his own father as well. He would have paid it.

"You're giving me a headache," Hanush growled, frustrated at his helplessness in stopping the turmoil in his friend’s head. He felt as if he heard every word. "Stop it. You will deal with that later. Don't just jump to conclusions until you talk to him, okay? Since when do you go against your own principles?"

But this could also be a problem. One of them, or maybe both of them, didn't have to live long enough to see any _later_. He delayed their conversation in good faith that they would both see to it eventually, but what if not? What if he dies sooner? His own son will forever see him as a liar, and maybe even that would be too kind. Maybe he now saw him as someone who had abused his father's goodness. Maybe he thought Martin hadn't even known about Henry’s true heritage, that both Radzig and Anne had lied to him. No – _later_ simply wouldn’t do.

As a teenager, he always made sure that he wasn't in dispute with anyone before embarking on his country trips. His father always accompanied him to the castle gate, his uncle always threw some joke at him before his departure. The last thing he had seen from Anne before he said goodbye to her, was a smile. He felt the panic rising up in him just thinking about the possibility that he would end up somewhere in a ditch one day, dying slowly, and remembering all the things he should have done and said. He didn’t want to live with more regrets.

He felt sorry for not telling his father the truth. That in his life Radzig knew something other than his job, that he fell in love and had a child. But he didn't tell him, even on his deathbed. The older Jan Kobyla grew, the wiser and more tolerant he became. There were times he would have ordered his only child to be taken to the monastery, but not when he was dying in a cold bed, feeling responsible for his son’s lonely life. He would have wanted to know his grandson, though illegitimate. And he would have certainly liked him, for his wit and boyish laughter, his curious mind, and kind heart. He would have been glad that his bloodline was continuing, and he wouldn’t have cared if the bed was that of a married couple or not.

He really despised regret. In the eyes of others or in his own heart, he hated it with all his being. He always felt helpless, unable to escape that invasive, crippling, paralyzing emotion.

He quickly walked down the stairs to the yard just to meet Bernard who told him that Hal had been so exhausted from his journey from Vranik that he fell into his bed, not caring enough to even shut the door behind him. _Well,_ Radzig said, _I won't disturb him then, it's not that important._

When he returned a few hours later, the horse was gone, along with his owner. The boy already went to see Divish. Another mission, another delay.

He hated himself for it, but he felt relief.


End file.
